


why are you like this

by jonphaedrus



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Amputation, Anal Fisting, Bestiality, Body Horror, Burnplay, Cannibalism, Cock & Ball Torture, Cock Vore, Come Inflation, Crucifixion, Decapitation, Deepthroating, Disembowelment, Eye Trauma, Gang Rape, Guro, Hanging, Hate Sex, Humiliation, Impaled With Extreme Prejudice, Improper Use of the Armiger, M/M, Masturbation, Medical Trauma, Mind Rape, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Oviposition, Penis removal, Prolapse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Size Kink Taken To Its Logical Extreme, Skull Fucking, Slurs, Snuff, Tentacle Rape, Torture, Unsanitary, ardyn is a sick son of a bitch and so am i i guess, honestly just assume everything in this fic is terrible and youre on target, no betas we die like men, this is puds fault.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-07 02:40:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 13,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8779921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonphaedrus/pseuds/jonphaedrus
Summary: "Why do you always have to make a fucking mess,” Ardyn snarls, and Cor laughs.( a collection of gore-porn that people keep requesting from me )





	1. cor/ardyn; eyefucking

**Author's Note:**

> this is all puds goddam fault and technically i only wrote 6pgs of my final but this was happening anyway. sorry for ruining everything you ever knew about me
> 
>  
> 
> [NOW WITH +1 PUD DRAW](http://puddraws.tumblr.com/post/154178568830/so-a-friend-of-mine-wrote-this-fic-and-then-this)

There is blood all over Ardyn’s face and hair, and every time he smiles, it drips black between his teeth, and Cor wants to slap him again, but it’s a little hard in his current situation. The inside of the man’s eyesocket is smooth and wet with blood, which oozes ichorous down his cheek from where Cor pulled his eye out. It's not nearly as good as fucking his mouth would feel, but the look of pure fury and humiliation on Ardyn's face more than makes up for the mess it's leaving on both of them and the fact that his eyelashes keep catching on the head of Cor's dick.

Ardyn looks surprisingly good, on his knees, covered in blood, with Cor fucking his eyesocket. It’s something the Marshall finds he could get used to, grabbing a handful of the man’s thick mop of red hair and dragging him closer, Ardyn moaning ragged as Cor’s dick digs further into his eye. When he comes, he pulls back just enough that he shoots a load into the man’s open eyelid, Ardyn swearing at the sting, and he slaps Cor’s dick away afterward, the Marshall wiping blood and viscera off of it as he watches the Chancellor fumble with shaky, bloody fingers, three of them gone on his left hand—the three oh-so-conspicuously missing from the King’s cold corpse when Cor got there.

He’s mostly, as far as Cor can tell, trying to pinch his eye shut to keep the come from getting all over his face, but he’s failing, and it leaks in bloody white streaks down over his lower eyelid and beside his nose. Cor grabs his chin, and Ardyn looks up at him, mouth open, his bleeding lips red and swollen.

“Are you done yet,” the man snarls, and Cor responds by kicking Ardyn, as hard as he can, between his spread thighs where he kneels. The sound of the toe of his boot impacting Ardyn's balls is muffled but sick and wet, and the kind of trauma that Cor knows just won't _go away_ but next time he sees Ardyn his eye will be back and his balls will be whole, so he doesn't really care about the fact that he probably just cracked the other man's pelvis. “Fuck!” Ardyn's voice cracks on the word, and he doubles over Cor’s thigh, handsome face in absolute anguish and his body as tight as a bowstring and seizing as he comes, Cor’s come leaking out of his eyesocket and onto his jacket, his other eye wide and his mouth trembling as he stares up at the Marshall, fingers clawlike in his trouser leg.

Cor shoves him backwards onto the tarmac when he’s done, and Ardyn wipes his face on his sleeve, shaking, as Cor crushes his eyeball, where it’s laying in the dirt, under his heel. “Why do you always have to make a fucking mess,” Ardyn snarls, and Cor laughs.

“Like you’d want anything else.”


	2. noctis/ardyn; fisting ardyn with his own severed hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why are you laughing,” Noctis snarls, as he digs his knee into the back of Ardyn’s, putting starburst pressure on his kneecap. “You’re a monster.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i believe the actual words of the request were "someone cutting off his arm and using it to fist him" god dammit pud

He’s hazy with blood loss, and the stump of his shoulder where his weight is leaning on it burns from the grit on the floor of the train that’s digging into the open wound. Noctis’ hand on the back of his neck is pressing his face into the floor, and he keeps laughing.

Ardyn, not Noctis. The King is all ragged, angry breaths and tight-muscled fury where he’s bent over Ardyn’s back, the cold fingers of one hand pressed to the top of his ass and keeping him pinned there. “Why are you _laughing_ ,” Noctis snarls, as he digs his knee into the back of Ardyn’s, putting starburst pressure on his kneecap. “You’re a monster.”

“Oh,” Ardyn laughs again, “I’m a monster.” He is a monster, bleeding black ichor all over the floor of the train, his cock hard and damp up against the base of his stomach, freed after Noctis ripped his trousers off, and he just widens his thighs as the young man presses four fingers into his burning ass, twists them in deep,

They are, of course, wider than Noctis’ fingers are, and the burn is one that Ardyn is ashamedly well-used to with nothing but blood and spit for lube, because they are of course _his_ fingers. That is his hand that Noctis is fucking into him with, his four fingers dug deep into him, slick with his blood. Ardyn moans as he feels the widest part of his knuckles breach the rim, and the faint, distant pain that’s his inner walls being scraped. Noctis doesn’t care the slightest about the damage he’s doing; Ardyn of course doesn’t either. “There’s such a thing as proportional retribution,” he continues, breathless, as Noctis spits on the rim of his hole. There’s no way it’s enough lube, but he supposes given enough force you can get a square peg in a round hole.

It works, eventually, and when Noctis shoves hard enough Ardyn presses his forehead against the grooves on the metal train floor and moans, loud and broken, as the King fists him with his own hand. He can feel his insides tearing, too-thin skin and membranes ripping, and Noctis’ breath is wild and panicked behind him.

“You fucker,” Noctis snarls. His cock is hard against Ardyn’s thigh through the cloth of his pants. “You’re getting off on this, you sick fuck.”

“So are you,” Ardyn snaps back, gasping as Noct finds a pace. “Not exactly family friendly, Your Majesty.” Noctis responds by grabbing the back of his neck and shoving his face into his floor, the metal scraping his cheek and chin open.

“Shut up,” Ardyn laughs again, voice cracking and hysterical. His body is heavy and sluggish; he’s bleeding out. “Shut up!” Noct shoves his hand in deeper, up to the wrist by the feel of it, and the pressure on the back of Ardyn’s prostate is too much, too much, unrelenting. He feels ruined and gaping and filthy, and he doesn’t bother trying to muffle himself, yelping and moaning as he comes, hard, knees skidding on the floor as he tries to get better leverage, his come painting his stomach and the floor in white strips.

Noctis rips his hand free after, and grabs Ardyn’s shoulder, throwing him onto his back. His severed arm, covered up to the wrist in blood and far less sanitary substances, is tossed on the floor behind him, the cut end still oozing, and Ardyn’s hole is gaping wide open, dripping with blood. He can’t clench it shut, muscle and skin torn. Noctis’ handsome face is a cruel rictus of rage, his sharp cheekbones flushed with anger and arousal, his dark hair in disarray, his eyes star-bright above his cheekbones.

“Finish what you started,” Ardyn chides, breath shallow with blood loss as he slides down slightly, his remaining elbow buckling. “If you’re going to make a mess, Noct, at least do it properly.” Noctis is fumbling with his zipper, and he finally gets his dick out. It’s hard and flushed in the clasp of his fist, head purpling, and it’s been two thousand years since he’s seen the dick of someone from the line of Izunia, but goodness, they’ve barely changed. All slim and grace, and Noctis comes in only a few strokes, splattering his come on Ardyn’s face.

That never changes either.

He’s still laughing as Noctis looks at him, in horror and anguish and fear, and Ardyn mimes doffing his hat, falling flat onto his back as he does it without his arm to hold up his weak body. “We should do this again, Your Majesty.” Noct is realising what he’s done, and he’s shaking. Ardyn laughs. “Torture looks good on you.”

The whisper of the Armiger as Noctis summons his blade is the last thing Ardyn hears before the boy-king runs him through, blade puncturing his chest and cracking bone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want to give me more terrible ideas i have an xv twitter unlocked @regisclarus


	3. noctis/ardyn; impalement fucking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s more to Noctis every day. Even just a few scant months ago, he would never have been able to bring himself to run Ardyn through, let alone fuck the gushing wound after. Scared of getting blood on his hands; scared of the monsters under the bed.

The hole from being impaled is most of the way through his stomach, and all Ardyn can think is that Noctis will probably get his dick cold fucking it if he just pushes out the other side. But still, the boy-king pins him down and straddles his waist, and the first slide of his cock into the heat of Ardyn’s abdomen, where he’s bleeding out and burning with stomach acid, makes the young man moan. “Be careful,” when he speaks blood bubbles up the back of his throat, and he rolls his hips up just enough to grind his own erection into Noctis’ ass, a quiet whimper dying in his throat. “You don’t just fuck a new hole straight through me, Your Majesty.”

“Shut up,” Noctis snarls, and shoves a hand over Ardyn’s mouth. No doubt so he doesn’t have to hear the snake speak.

There’s more to Noctis every day. Even just a few scant months ago, he would never have been able to bring himself to run Ardyn through, let alone fuck the gushing wound after. Scared of getting blood on his hands; scared of the monsters under the bed. And now here he is, trapping him against the ground and fucking a hole left by his father’s sword. Oh, there’s poetic justice in that, Ardyn thinks, as he grinds up against the King again. Something almost incestuous, but he’s not one to speak.

Noctis is panting, and Ardyn’s blood is staining his trousers. There’s something fiery and awful in his eyes, and Ardyn seizes without meaning to as a spike of pain burns his consciousness to cinders when Noctis rams his dick directly into the side of his spine. The young man yelps, and Ardyn wails in agony, his legs twitching on the ground. Noctis shoves his head back, slams his skull against the ground (blood there, on the back of his head, blood on his hair) and does it again, making him jerk like a ragdoll. A third time and he’s coming to white-hot sparks behind his eyes as his gut dissolves in acid and blood, and Noctis doesn’t bother to pull out.

Instead, he shifts his cock back just enough when he comes that Ardyn moans in ragged pain at the feeling of it splashing his open organs, sticky and glistening white against the red and black of his viscera. When Noctis is done, he shifts back onto Ardyn’s thighs, and then slides forward onto his chest, drags his head up by his hair.

Ardyn’s blood is all over his cock—blood, yes, and tissue too, thick and red and wet. “Your mess,” Noctis spits, eyes black with fury, and rams his cockhead into Ardyn’s bloody lips. “You clean it up before you die, jester.”

Ardyn laughs, his remaining breath rushing out of his chest under Noctis’ weight. As if he'll last that long.

“With _pleasure_ , Majesty.”


	4. ardyn; masturbation and disembowelment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacking off and dying in a ditch at the same time is a new low.

It’s not his first time getting disembowelled but, well, what can you do?

The actual answer to that question is probably something like _stop getting disembowelled_ but that’s not so much his answer at the moment as is _make the best of it_ and that involves keeping his left hand cupped around just below his navel over the gash that nearly vivisects him, where his intestines are spilling out, and his right wrapped around his dick. “Fuck,” Ardyn hisses as he digs his heel into the ground, trying to get a better angle, swiping the thumb over his slit, staring at the stars overhead.

Jacking off and dying in a ditch at the same time is a new low.

Moaning as he gives up on holding back the inevitable guts-spillage, Ardyn spits on his hand and shifts his hips up as high as he can given that he’s been cut open like a stuck pig and slides two fingers without preamble into his ass, biting his lower lip to bleeding. It’s too much friction and it hurts, sharp pangs of pain, but it isn’t exactly like he isn’t in a great deal of pain already. It can’t possibly hurt more than dying. Every time he fucks his fingers into himself, blood and viscera spill out over his side and onto the ground in a steaming stinking pile, and he glances down at it, the mess it’s making of his white shirt as he clutches at the base of his cock, moaning in aborted little wet gasps.

His head feels fuzzy and his heartbeat is too-fast and too-high, but he can’t stop. He’s dying, and he’s racing the clock to getting off, and so help him he isn’t going to die without coming. What would he do, walk up to someone and say _I’m sorry, I got interrupted halfway to my orgasm because I died, would you mind vivisecting me?_ The third finger in makes him yell, and he can tell his rim is bleeding, but it only makes him harder, and his intestines are spilling out over the ground, sliced in half and killing him from the inside out but it only makes him harder, his cock is throbbing and he can barely breathe, blood everywhere all over his hands and the night air cool on his guts on the ground and—

“Fuck,” he yelps, as he comes, hard biting his lip as his cock throbs in a few sharp pulses, mercifully onto the ground and _not_ onto his clothes, so at least he isn’t going to be sticky. He keeps stroking a few more times, riding the high, all of it terror-tinged and star-bright with anguish and pain, the smell of entrails and vomit and blood, and then flops boneless to the ground, breathless, and dying.

Not the worst night.


	5. ignis/ardyn; eat your heart out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But you’re a romantic man, aren’t you, Chancellor Izunia? When you killed Lady Lunafreya, you broke Noctis’ heart.” Ignis smiles, all-teeth. “It’s only fitting I cut yours out. I’m sure you can appreciate poetic justice.”

He had once been willing to use torture on a far smaller fish than Ardyn Izunia, and the only thing that has changed in the intervening time is how far he’s willing to go. With Caligo, Ignis probably would have just broken a few fingers, maybe a kneecap. He was a non-entity: a cruel one, but one who could bleed and die like a mortal man.

With Ardyn, there’s no such limitation.

The overhead lights in the Hammerhead garage give his vision a strange, yellow glow. He can’t even see Ardyn more than as a vague shadow of a silhouette against the light, and the man keeps laughing. It’s a ragged giggle, blood-wet and deep out of his chest, and Ignis wants to sneer but—there’s something beyond pathetic about Ardyn. Desperate. He is everything that Noctis would be, if he had gone wrong and only ever wrong.

Ignis sighs, dragging the man’s head upright by his hair. Prompto and Gladio refused to help; they had captured the Chancellor during one of their incursions to Insomnia, but hadn’t been willing to do what Ignis is. They’re outside, waiting, as Ignis stares down at the ghost on his vision.

“Oh, you’re so _traditional_ ,” Ardyn gasps, coughing. “Teeth and fingernails? You think that scares me at this point?”

“No,” Ignis hadn’t expected it to. “We must try the basics first, though.” He lets go of Ardyn’s hair, hears him cough again. Ignis is reminded of how Prompto had described his imprisonment in Zagnatus: tied up spreadeagled, helpless. Only here Ardyn is tied to kneel, so Ignis doesn’t have to stretch. “I have something far more fitting in mind, I think.”

“Oh?” Ardyn is smiling. His voice gets silky when he smiles, like pond scum. “And what could that be?”

Ignis replies by picking up the hammer he had set on the table. Ardyn’s ragged breathing drops a notch. “We’ll start with this,” he murmurs.

The following ten minutes are mostly the dull wet thud of a hammer striking human flesh, the snap of brittle bones breaking, and Ardyn screaming. Ignis isn’t even sure why he bothers; it’s not like he will wake up in the morning with broken ribs and pulverised muscles. He’ll be whole again by the time Ignis is done with him.

When he’s finished, the head of his hammer is wet with blood, and Ardyn’s breathing is shallow and rattling. “What the fuck do you want,” the Chancellor whispers, and Ignis hears him spit, lets the wet spittle strike him in the cheek without flinching. “I can’t give you anything.” Every word is clearly an effort, and Ignis is unsurprised. He’s got half his ribcage broken into shards, and he’s still upright, dying a little more with every breath. “I’ll just be back, and Noct will still be gone.”

Ignis replies to the man saying Noctis’ name like it’s his _right_ by picking up his knife and ramming it into Ardyn’s chest up to the hilt. Ardyn grunts in surprise, and then hisses in pain as Ignis drags up on the hilt, the blade carving through muscle and flesh like a hot knife through butter. “Don’t,” Ignis snarls, twisting the blade as cruelly as he can just to hear Ardyn sob, “Speak his name like that.”

“I didn’t even _do_ anything to him,” Ardyn coughs.

“Yet.” Ignis knows the word is unspoken. Knows it isn’t true, either—Ardyn has never laid a hand on Noctis, but scars are more than the physical marks on your body. Ignis knows that better than anyone. Rather than rise to the man’s bait, he continues cutting until he can sink his fingernails into Ardyn’s chest, dig them through muscle and shattered bone, and grasp his beating heart.

It flutters, terrified and adrenaline-fast, against his fingers. Ardyn doesn’t say anything, but his high, terrified breathing speaks for itself. “Of course, you can’t tell me anything I don’t already know,” Ignis crouches down as he says it, his voice conversational. “But you’re a romantic man, aren’t you, Chancellor Izunia? When you killed Lady Lunafreya, you broke Noctis’ heart.” Ignis smiles, all-teeth. “It’s only fitting I cut yours out. I’m sure you can appreciate poetic justice.”

“You,” Ardyn is shaking all over, going into shock, his lifeblood running down Ignis wrist, staining the cuff of his shirt, “Are a sick bastard.”

“I assure you, sir, I am perfectly legitimate. There’s no need to be uncouth.” Not when Ignis has his fingers knuckle-deep in the other man’s chest. “Besides, I really think you have no room to be slinging about who is sick or not.” Ignis pauses, and then drags his left hand down Ardyn’s chest to the front of his slacks, wraps his fingers around the older man’s cock.

He’s hard.

Ardyn trembles.

“I never said I wasn’t.” His voice is hoarse and trembling, and Ignis grinds the heel of his palm into him, too-hard and too-fast. Ardyn is wheezing, shaking violently like he’s cold, and he bucks against Ignis’ hand when he pulls on the man’s heart. “Fuck—“

He comes minutes later with a wet broken noise high in the back of his throat, wet inside his own pants. Ignis grunts in disgust and pulls his hand back before he finishes neatly cutting the man’s heart out of his own chest. It’s messy—one of the messiest things he’s ever done. It’s still beating, blood-hot and soft in the palm of his hand as Ardyn twitches, blood spurting from the open wound in his chest, his whole body wracked with spasms as he dies.

“Open wide,” Ignis coos, and even blind, he can still find Ardyn’s mouth without trying. He’s twitching with life as Ignis shoves his still-beating heart between his teeth, blood dripping down his unshaved chin, the soft tissue sliding right in without any effort.

Ignis sighs, and goes to wash his hands.


	6. noctis/ardyn; improper use of the armiger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Although I suppose you could always cram that somewhere—“
> 
> Noctis cut him off by lifting the blade over his head and thrusting the katana in through his open mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "impale him with the entire armiger" says the dis server "shove the mace up his ass and cut his dick off" says the dis server
> 
> this fic just keeps getting more warnings,

“I think you’re running out of places to put those,” Ardyn said, as Noctis looked at him, his eyes glowing with blue fire, the Armiger alight in his hands. “And so many left, you’ll have to get inventive.” Noctis’ handsome face twisted, his beard hiding the worst of the grimace around his mouth, and he lifted the katana he had in hand. Ardyn didn’t bother struggling; the greatsword through his stomach kept him neatly impaled to the wall, and the sceptre that Noctis had shoved up his ass had pierced right up his spine, ripping through viscera and come out up nearly by his shoulderblade. He It had punctured one lung, and he could barely breathe. “Although I suppose you could always cram that somewhere—“

Noctis cut him off by lifting the blade over his head and thrusting the katana in through his open mouth. Ardyn’s scream of pain was garbled and caught in his throat as the blade sliced straight through him, stopped by no bones. Noctis ran it down to the hilt, and the metal of the tsuba cold against Ardyn’s lips. His body spasmed, twitching out of his control, his hand smacking the wall, and Noctis pinned it there with one of the other swords, the blade cutting through the bones of his wrist until he was screaming, trying to kick free despite the fact that the was nearly vivisected. Every time he moved the katana cut deeper into him, slicing him nearly neatly in half, the mace inside him pressed just on his prostate, until he was less screaming and more moaning.

The other sword pinned his other hand to the wall, and he writhed, the katana’s curved blade twisting up and piercing his stomach, grating against the greatsword. He was dying, blood leaking out his ass and gurgling in his sliced-open throat, his lungs filling with it. He clenched around the mace, milking the pressure on his prostate for all it was worth as two daggers pinned his right leg, slicing through tendons and bone, and he was struggling, moaning as he came on the edge of death, his body bowstring-tight, screaming in anguish and need and—

Pain, absolute pain, as Noctis slammed the blades of his throwing star into the base of Ardyn’s erection, the bottom of his abdomen. His orgasm, ruined, cut off at the source as the boy-king sliced his cock from his body, and Ardyn shrieked in pain and frustration, eyes rolling as he tried to look down, his neck forced straight by the blade through his throat, at where his dick hung from his body, his ruined, torturous orgasm curling hot and ugly in the pit of his stomach.

“Disgusting,” Noctis snarled, as he died. “Disgusting.”


	7. ardyn/behemoth; size kink taken to the logical extreme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can feel the behemoth’s cock, nearly as long as his arm, hot and damp against his thighs, nudging against the backs of his knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i believe the prompt for this was "size kink taken to its logical extreme"
> 
> id also like to thank my fc for making me type "bejemoth" every time i tried to write behemoth

The sand is gritty under his fingers when Ardyn hits the ground, the wind knocked out of him. His heart is beating in the back of his throat with fear and exertion, and he manages to get onto his knees before the stink of the behemoth is above him, heavy wet breath across his back and his neck.

A paw, with claws as long as his fingers, crushes him back to the ground, and he can’t breathe. His back and hips ache worryingly, and for a moment he can only struggle to fight to get back onto his elbows as the behemoth sniffs the back of his neck, and then tears its claws down. Ardyn muffles his surprised grunt of pain as the claws shred through his clothes and skin like ricepaper, ripping his back open from neck to navel, tearing his clothes to tatters and leaving him exposed.

He can feel the behemoth’s cock, nearly as long as his arm, hot and damp against his thighs, nudging against the backs of his knees. The thing breathes a stinking breath over the back of his neck, and Ardyn knows he should be more scared than he is, but really, at this point—he’s a little numb to it all. It’s hard to be scared; hard to insist that he be frightened for his life and soul when at this point there’s little of either left.

The behemoths cock, huge and hot, nudges between his thighs, the tip of it kissing over his hole. Ardyn whimpers, fingers dug into the sand, but he can’t move, not with the paw pinning him to the ground. He can barely breathe, let alone do something about the fact that the beast’s other paw rips his thighs apart, and Ardyn screams as his right leg dislocates, his femur breaking at the joint from the force, and the pain is so white-hot that he almost blacks out, throwing up on the ground just beneath him.

His pelvis snaps like old twigs as the behemoth thrusts its ridiculous cock up into Ardyn. It catches on his entrance, no space for it to break through him, and then force alone punches it up into his body. Someone is screaming. He is screaming. He is screaming, and he’s come on the ground, his body from the waist down just broken bones and crushed viscera, the behemoth’s cock pulverising him inside. His inner walls have torn and stomach acid is flooding his abdomen, but the thing keeps fucking him, claws sinking straight through his chest, puncturing his lungs. Blood is filling his throat, and he’s reeling. If he could come again he would, on the cock as wide as his leg that’s slamming tip-first into his ribcage, the shards of is pelvis smashed to further pieces by the force of it.

When the behemoth comes, countless eons of pain and agony later, Ardyn is so near to death that all he can feel is the splash of it in places splashes shouldn’t go. He wretches, again, and the monster’s come leaks out his open mouth, dripping off of his tongue onto the ground. When it pulls out, half his guts go with it, come soaking his now-completely-removed right leg that lays inches from his body on the ground.

He cries hot tears until he dies, humiliated and left like an empty hollow skin of what was once a man.


	8. ardyn; decapitation blowjob

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Always wanted to see if you could do this,” the third voice continues from very far away, as the ooze at the base of his neck starts to bubble and coalesce, reaching for its other end. “Now we have our chance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was literally like the third thing pud requested aND I FINALLY DID IT.....THIS WAS #DIFFICULT

“He’s hard!” Jeer his captors, as they drag Ardyn’s head further back by his hair, his vision spotty with lack of air. Someone, he can’t see who with the hood over his eyes, punches him hard in his erection and he yelps in pain and surprise, trying desperately to roll away or close is thighs where they’ve been tied wide open. They do it a few more times, until he can feel his testicles bleeding and his thoughts are empty except for the white-hot brutal censor of pain, and then let him breathe. “Just kill him,” says someone else and a third suggests, “I have a better idea.”

There is a blade, cold and fire-sharp, at his throat. It swings back, and the slice it makes that cleaves his head from his neck is clean and straight through, slicing right through the bones of his vertebrae. Dead, they don’t care, and pull the sack from over his head, his amber eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling as black blood drips from the stump of his neck.

“Always wanted to see if you could do this,” the third voice continues from very far away, as the ooze at the base of his neck starts to bubble and coalesce, reaching for its other end. “Now we have our chance.”

Ardyn can see, and not-see, that his trousers have been ripped open, and his blood-hot cock is standing at attention. His balls are completely smashed to pieces, a puddle of liquid and blood and skin below his cock, and they wrench open his jaw by force, bring his head forward, and shove his cock in his mouth up to the hilt. Why bother anything less, when he no longer has a gag reflex to stop it? The head of his cock is stuck just down his throat, and the crude mimic of a blow job that follows is basically just them forcing him to fuck his own face.

He was already so close that his body, still spurting blood from the severed veins and arteries in his neck, comes before the last of the death spasms pass, hot semen spurting into Ardyn’s mouth and out his severed neck, hot and dripping from the open wound between his cervical vertebrae. The person holding his head drops it with a disgusted noise, and it bounces on the ground with a wet squelch.

“No way that works,” says the third man again. Ardyn’s head is rolling closer to his body, black smoke tying the stumps of his neck together, until it’s finally close enough and with a sickening squelch, his head is dragged back onto his neck.

His skin knits. His eyes stop being glazed, and he smiles, all-teeth, as his body feels properly his body again, his head properly his head, so he is a person and not a ghost in flesh, and the three men stare at him in terror, motionless. “Gentlemen,” Ardyn says after a moment. He coughs, and spits a wad of semen out of his throat onto the ground. “I believe you’ve rather made a mess of me.”

Unlike him, they can only die once, and after he’s finished with them, there is no screaming any more.


	9. ardyn/iron giant; gangbang (p1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ardyn resetting the timeline because noctis keeps dying is the best meme tbh

“It’s a good thing I can do this,” Ardyn commented to Noctis’ frozen body, as he carefully pulled the boy-king out from between the three Iron Giants that had converged on him while his boyband lagged behind. It took some doing even with the hover-freeze of Warp and Time on his side, to get Noctis off of where he’d been impaled down on the huge cock of one of the things, the daemon’s throbbing erection as wide around as a human fist, stubby and bulbous and leaking black ooze. His ass was bloody and shredded, but nothing a few Hi-Potions wouldn’t fix, and Ardyn made sure to toss him somewhere on the grass before he went back to deal with the problem.

His life would have been a lot easier if Regis’ plan to keep Noct safe and unharmed had worked as planned, and not had him having to save the King of Light every week from some horrible fate that would have killed him and tossed Ardyn into another two-thousand years of fucking waiting. Three Iron Giants raping Noctis was a new one, but it wasn’t anything that Ardyn couldn’t handle. Time could only stop for so long, so he didn’t waste any time shucking his trousers to keep them intact before he started time again.

Th Iron Giants were just as drawn to Ardyn as they had been to Noctis—Noctis, who he could see in the distance, struggling on the ground and yelping in pain. They didn’t care that the warm body had changed, and Ardyn yelped as one of them picked him up, casually ripped his leg out of socket, and thrust that fat cock directly into his ass. The pain was whiteout behind his eyes, as the daemon forced him down the length of it, tearing skin and mucous membranes and thrusting up into him until he could feel his stomach distending with it, choking for breath. The next one wasted no time in tearing at his legs, forcing him open, and the force of the second cock pushing into him would have irreparably torn his ass if that was the sort of thing that could happen to him.

Oh, Noctis would have died from this. Would have hated this and died in anguish and disgust. He wouldn’t have enjoyed being fucking torn in half, wouldn’t have found the pleasure in being fucked until he threw up the bile that was forced out of his body.

The third Giant just took his mouth, and Ardyn just resigned himself to having his lower jaw torn off, hanging from skin and muscle as the head of the cock slid down into his throat, choking him and forcing a curve into the line of his trachea. It was wide enough, with enough force, that by the time he was being filled with his first load of daemon-come, thick as blood and tacky and black, the Giant in his throat had ripped its way out the front, and Ardyn would have moaned if he’d been able to make noise past the gaping wound just above his collarbones. His own cock throbbed too-hard, aching as the second load of come got shot up his ass, the force of it spewing it back into his intestines.

He came somewhere around the time the creatures threw him to the ground and snapped his spine like twigs, a third cock breaking his pelvis in half, screaming in pain and anguish as they tore his body to pieces and kept fucking the remains, using him as something warm. They didn’t stop until dawn, and then vanished back into the ground, leaving Ardyn a heap of smashed bones and black come on the dirt, a broken ragdoll bleeding from a dozen different internal injuries. He’d orgasmed himself dry on their cocks, and their come stuck his ass cheeks together, caked to his thighs, dripped down onto the dirt.

No, Ardyn considered, as he lay there, Noctis could _definitely_ not have appreciated that.


	10. ardyn/sabretusks; eaten alive (p2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As dawn broke the horizon, a pack of sabretusks came snuffling by, looking for castoff food. The night brought daemons, who often left dead animals (and the occasional stupid, foolish human) for the scavengers to make use of. Today, that refuse was Ardyn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is absolutely nothing redeeming about this chapter. the prompt was "sabretusks, gangbang" and it somehow turned into this.
> 
> i formally apologise? sorry this is gross. id say "check the tags" but this is just. getting grosser on the daily.

As dawn broke the horizon, a pack of sabretusks came snuffling by, looking for castoff food. The night brought daemons, who often left dead animals (and the occasional stupid, foolish human) for the scavengers to make use of. Today, that refuse was Ardyn.

He was bleeding out slower than any human, clinging to life with the stubbornness of an old bruise, not vanishing. When the first of the sabretusks came over, yelping at its fellows, he tried to make a pained noise that did not come out, did not go anywhere. The giants had torn his throat open, punctured straight through above his clavicles, and his voice had gone with it. Mostly gore and viscera, the sabretusks didn’t have a hard time digging their teeth into the open wounds of his almost-removed leg. His spine, snapped during the night, left him unable to feel any pain from it at all, but he watched as they flayed skin and chewed muscle, snapped bones.

There were four of them that began to pick over his dying body like circling carrion birds. One of them, Ardyn noticed, was hard, and the creature mounted him after a time, strange knotted cock thrusting into the bloody mess between Ardyn’s legs. The noise was wet and slick, and the first one set an example for the others, and soon enough he had one fucking the open wound of his stomach, one on his face. It was strange, the detachment he felt, as they made a meal of his flesh, relaxed and easy. It was not the worst way to go, and he found a strange, sick pleasure in being used as human refuse for the scavengers. Were they so much different from him, in the end? Looking for the scraps and dung-heaps.

He _was_ those things.

He died at about the point that one of them shoved its hard cock through the viscera of his eye, a blood-soaked laugh on his lips, and the sabretusks were more surprised than he was, perhaps, when he shoved them off and rose a few minutes later, rubbing the side of his face and groaning at the mess that he’d been left from his miserable night.

Ardyn sighed.

He needed a new plan to deal with Noct’s messes.


	11. ardyn; hung by the guts until dead + masturbation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ardyn should probably be fighting back more, but he’s never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth, even if that gift horse is a mob, livid-lipped with fury at having discovered the Scourge in their midst, unspooling his intestines from inside the sac of his guts and looping their length around his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unsanitary and brief mention of scat warning for this chapter

Ardyn should probably be fighting back more, but he’s never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth, even if that gift horse is a mob, livid-lipped with fury at having discovered the Scourge in their midst, unspooling his intestines from inside the sac of his guts and looping their length around his throat. Oh, it’s a mess, and there is blood _everywhere_ something awful, but he’s far more pleased than he should be that they’ve tied his hands before him as the mob boosts him into a chair and loop his guts around the hook that hangs from the ceiling. He’s _long_ since passed the point of no return when it comes to begging for them to let him live; he never had any expectation that they’d let him go, and he’s far more into this now than he wants to admit.

They knock the chair loose from under him, and his weight immediately swings, his toes kicking and clawing at the floor below him. For a moment he’s terrified that his colon won’t hold him up, stinking of viscera and bile and shit, but it manages to hang on, just barely, straining under his weight. He can’t breathe, and the mob shrieks in delight as he swings, swings, swings.

His dick is so hard it _hurts_. Hangman’s boner, after all, throbbing in his slacks. He can’t breathe, and he watches blood ooze heavily out the hanging flap of the skin of his torso, sliced open from his pelvis all the way up to his ribs, muscle and viscera sliced in half to reveal the sensitive organs within. He’s got his hands wrapped around his dick and fucks into his closed fingers, grinding into his palms, as he struggles to keep his body glamoured to look human, rather than revealing the black ooze and burns that mar his skin. It’s difficult, when he’s death-hard and already blacking out, and swing, swing, swinging between the two highs. On one side, death, and on the other side, orgasm rushing up to meet him faster with every second.

Part of his intestines snap, and Ardyn drops a foot lower, and he’d yell in pain if he could as his own guts fail to take his weight, tightening around his throat and bruising his adam’s apple. He kicks harder, crying, digging the heels of his tied palms into his cock and desperately trying to jack himself to orgasm as blood and worse spills over his bare shoulders. He’d probably be losing control of his bowels with his death if they weren’t already ripped wholesale out of his body and the very literal noose around his throat. Instead, he just hangs onto the threads of his glamour even as he blacks out, and he seizes up and orgasms as he tips into death, his come hot on his palms through the cloth of his pants.

The last thing he hears as he thrashes and moans through his orgasm and death throes, is the screaming of the crowd as his magic melts away with his death and leaves behind his cooling corpse, looking like what he is— _a monster_.


	12. ardyn/noctis; itadakimasu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps, though, that is what ends up doing him in, because Noctis is such a good fuck, such a good fuck, that Ardyn isn’t paying nearly enough attention, and he’s startled and anguished when Noctis twists and shifts slightly, teeth grazing the base of his cock, sending shudders up his spine before Noctis bites down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks kenji for donating this incredibly terrible explanation of what thIS CHAPTER IS AS THE TITLE JKHSDKJSHFSD
> 
> oh right uh. this is noct biting ardyns dick off and fucking him with it. yall was warned.

“You look good like this,” Ardyn says conversationally, fingers tight in the downy hair at the back of Noct’s neck, his cock splitting the boy-king’s jaw wide, wide open around the base of his dick. His blue eyes are furious and bright with rage, his cheeks flushed angry red, and Ardyn’s first load of come is leaking in drips out his nostrils after he came half down his throat, sticky all over his lips and backwashing through his sinuses. He’s so glad magitek can keep the Armiger out of reach; Noctis is _so_ much more fun when he can’t fight back. “I’ve always been of the opinion that Kings are better on their knees.” Himself included.

To accentuate the humiliating position Noct is in, Ardyn drags him closer by the back of his neck, thrusts his iron-hard erection into the young man’s mouth until Noctis is actively gagging on him, his throat spasming hot and lovely around the head of Ardyn’s dick, and he’s crying ugly tears. They look very good, clumping up his eyelashes, leaving his cheeks with glistening tracks on them. “You want something, Your Majesty?” He asks lightly, fucking the back of Noct’s throat like he’s just a hole, pulling out to let him breathe and then slamming home deeper than before to watch Noct try and wiggle away, escape, get far enough that he can breathe. “Oh,” Ardyn shudders all over, eyelids low over his eyes. “You feel _so_ good, Noct. You can suck it like the best of whores. I _love_ your mouth.”

Perhaps, though, that is what ends up doing him in, because Noctis is such a good fuck, _such_ a good fuck, that Ardyn isn’t paying nearly enough attention, and he’s startled and _anguished_ when Noctis twists and shifts slightly, teeth grazing the base of his cock, sending shudders up his spine before Noctis _bites_ _down_.

Ardyn screams, surprised more than anything, as the boy-king just _keeps_ _fucking biting_ and he tries to rip away, stumbling back, and almost whites out in pain and nausea as his whole dick tears away at the base, blood gushing from the open wound. He feels cold and sick all over, stumbling before he trips and lands on the ground. It isn’t his _first time,_ of course, but it never stops being fucking _painful as hell_.

Noct gags, and pulls Ardyn’s still-hard dick out of his mouth and throat, spitting it onto the ground. His last load drips out of the young man’s throat, and he scrapes Ardyn’s come out with his fingers, gagging violently, before he scrubs the mess on his face off on the back of his sleeve. “Fucker,” Ardyn snarls, and Noctis grins at him, blood and come running between his teeth as he picks up Ardyn’s still-hard dick, and waves it at him tauntingly.

“Can’t get it back like this, can you?” Not that it matters; Ardyn will be dead soon. He’s pulsing blood out at a terrifying rate. “Come here,” Noct growls, and Ardyn tries to push away before his knee gives out and he slips, foot skidding in the blood under him as Noctis crawls over, grabbing Ardyn by the cloth of his pants, strained tight between his thighs just under his balls. “Can't feel good, I bet.”

“Oh, I’ve been here before,” Ardyn laughs, cruelly as Noctis pins him down with a knee on the base of his stomach, digging painfully into his bladder and hipbones. The pressure makes him squirt another jet of blood out the wound between his thighs. “I see that you, unlike some of us, really don't enjoy getting your throat fucked.” Noctis shudders in disgust as he wipes his fingers through the thick artery blood all over the ground and Ardyn’s thighs, slicks his cock with it, and shoves his legs painfully apart. Noct doesn’t care the slightest for whether or not it hurts. It’s a little refreshing.

It’s disgusting and slippery and nearly impossible for Noctis to shove Ardyn’s own cock into him, blood all over _everything_ , and Ardyn is so weak from blood loss that he just ends up sprawled and wheezing with his knees throw apart as Noctis mercilessly fucks him with his own dick. It’s rough and tears him apart inside, and he’d call the motion _raping_ but Ardyn has never once said no, laughing because he knew he could push Noctis into going this far eventually. He’s always had a sadistic streak in him, and Ardyn’s done little and less to make it go away. On the contrary: he’s done nothing but encourage him.

“I hate you,” Noctis spits, watching Ardyn’s face with his angry, burning eyes, “I _fucking_ hate you.” Ardyn laughs, ragged, fucking his hips back onto his own dick, moaning as Noctis slams and rams his prostate. Entirely by accident, of course, because only Ardyn could get off on this, only Ardyn could _want_ this. “You’re scum.”

“Oh, Noct,” Ardyn sighs, as he clenches down on his own dick, feels the way it fills him up and wonders (not for the first time) what it would feel like if he could fuck himself properly, how tight and hot he would be, “You’re still so bad at insults.”

In return, Noctis shoves his severed dick up inside him until it passes the ring of Ardyn’s hole, trapped in him, grabs him by the collar with his red-stained hands, and punches Ardyn in the mouth as hard as he possibly can, his head ricocheting back up off the concrete floor, biting the tip of his tongue so hard his teeth dig into the flesh, blood filling his mouth, the pain of it all coalescing and multiplying as he shudders into a dry orgasm from just his prostate and the pain, Noctis looking sick and furious.

“Haven’t you learned by now?” Ardyn asks, soft and gentle, smiling up at the King of Light, “I’ll love anything you give me, Noct. Anything at all.”


	13. ardyn/noctis; baby's first blowjob

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll bite your dick off and choke you with it.” Ardyn giggles, pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is actually for ruebirds. um. this isnt what i said id do but it sorta happened. whoops.
> 
> two dick-biting-off chapters in a row??? jesus. i should also note: this is r e a l l y graphic.

It’s really impressive, how much _angrier_ Noctis looks with a broken lip. Something that small shouldn’t make such a huge difference, but it certainly does here, the line of blood bright red against his already-flushed lips and cheeks, dirt and dried blood staining his tan forehead and cheekbones, his blue eyes fiery and bruised. His eyelashes are tremendous. They’re so beautiful. Ardyn could spend all day torturing him; peeling his fingernails off of their beds one by one just to hear his lovely voice scream.

“You know,” Ardyn says, standing far enough away from Noctis that the boy-king can’t do much of anything except gnash his teeth and strain at where Ardyn has him handcuffed to a drain pipe, having learned his lesson that Noctis is dangerous even without the Armiger when the young man had kicked him in the balls, “You really do look good like this. You’ve got the right eyes for looking furious.”

“Fuck you,” Noctis snarls in reply. Ardyn doesn’t expect anything less, and sighs, as if put-upon by Noctis’ fury.

“You know, you really are running rather low on insults.” He steps forward, closer, and grabs the thick, dark hair at the nape of the Prince’s neck, makes a fist, and twists and pulls until his throat is a tight, arching line. Noctis doesn’t whine, doesn’t beg, just looks up at him with eyes like fire and blood dripping between his teeth. “Honestly, Noctis. Being vulgar is just the lazy man’s way out. Can’t you come up with something more original?” He lets the boy’s hair loose so he can speak, and the response Ardyn gets is Noct spitting on his face, more blood than saliva. It gets him almost in the eye, and Ardyn wipes it off without even a grimace. He loves seeing how far he can make Noct stoop..

“I’ll bite your dick off and choke you with it.” Ardyn giggles, pleased.

“Oh, now _that’s_ more like it.” He grabs Noct’s chin, forces his head up, keeps his mouth clamped shut. “Would you like to try it, Your Highness?”

“Majesty,” Noctis tries to snarl back, but it’s muffled and choked off between his teeth.

“Majesty,” Ardyn concedes, venom dripping from every syllable. “That’s not a no, then.” He lets go of Noct’s jaw and pulls his dick out of his fly, slaps Noctis with the head. He’s slightly stiff, because how could he _not_ be, with Noctis on his knees and all fury and hate, and he nudges the head of his dick against Noct’s lips. He won’t open his mouth. “Noctis,” Ardyn warns, shifting his hand to grip the young man by the jaw and digging his thumb and forefinger into the joints until it _forces_ open under the pressure, nearly creaking with how little he’s letting Ardyn move him, “I can always break your jaw, you know. You won’t heal from that nearly so well as I will.” Noctis blinks tears off his eyelids, opens his mouth, and Ardyn slides in, still soft, until he’s all the way to the base in Noct’s mouth.

The Prince’s gag reflex is high and sensitive, and Ardyn isa little shocked, because by the looks of the way he’s desperately trying to wrench away, he’s never done this before. No twentysomething spends months in the wilderness with three other strapping young lads and doesn’t come out fucked six ways to Sunday. And yet, somehow, those three boys had kept their hands off of Noctis—or Noctis had kept his hands off of them.

Impressive self control. All for naught, of course, because Ardyn has never had anything even vaguely resembling such. He doesn’t hesitate for even a moment..

And now, when Ardyn is settled at the base, gently, too-gently, stroking Noctis’ hair, he smiles. “You said,” he murmurs, “That you would bite my dick off and choke me with it. Every second you waste here is a precious second for Prompto’s life, Noct. Put your money where your mouth is and I’ll let you go. If you do it well enough, I might even help you get there faster.”

Noctis looks sick. Ardyn was a healer once, in another lifetime, and he knows the tell-tale signs of nausea, but Noctis fights through it even though he’s pallid and ill, holds on. “If you can do it,” Ardyn swears, as solemnly as he still knows how, “I’ll let you go, no questions asked, the moment I’m not dead any more.”

Noctis shakes.

“Oh,” Ardyn continues, soothing his sweaty brow, “It’s no harder than biting through a steak. I know how much you like them. I don’t mind.” He’s not minded in a long, long time. “Come on, Noct. I just want to help you. You said it yourself it was what you wanted to do! All these mind games over. You going on your way, merrily as can be.” Noct’s mouth is hot and wet, and Ardyn’s getting hard, dripping pre into his throat since Noct can’t go anywhere but choke on his dick. “When I get hard, you’re going to asphyxiate,” he’s as conversational as can be. Like he’s talking about the weather, even as his cock hardens and bumps against Noctis’ soft palette, against his teeth. Like he isn’t goading Noctis on to do some men’s greatest fear. He’s not even sure that this boy, too-soft, can do it. He can feel Noct’s throat constricting around his cockhead, trapping him in, and he neither pulls back nor eases up.

Instead, he pinches Noct’s nose shut, and the boy shakes like a leaf.

“The harder I am,” Ardyn murmurs, “The harder it will be.” Noctis will either have to pass out from lack of oxygen after only a few minutes trapped like this, spitted open on Ardyn’s cock, or he’ll have to do it. As the seconds tick past, Ardyn gets harder, vein along his underside throbbing with the mere _possibility_ of what Noctis promised to do, leaking down his throat as Noct’s face gets redder and redder, his eyes bright and painful and shiny with unshed tears. He’s coughing, choking, trying to expel Ardyn from his mouth and failing. He’s going to pass out if they keep going. Or Ardyn is going to come. Or both. “Come on Noctis. All you have to do is bite down. Or,” he pauses, “Are you a _coward?_ Some King of Light you are, Noct. I put the blade in your hand and you can’t even drive it home. No wonder King Regis feared you being able to Ascend. I know if I’d made your father do this to live, I wouldn’t have had to wait but a second—“

That rouses his ire, that _finally_ makes the Prince’s temper snap past the point where he can control himself, and Noctis bites down, _hard_ , and Ardyn bursts into laughter at how much it hurts around the base of his dick as his sharp teeth dig in, cutting straight through flesh. That’s the easy part. It’s so much harder for Noctis to _keep_ biting, keep biting until his canines dig into muscle, blood, viscera. Ardyn can feel the moment that Noctis cuts through his urethra, because his half-formed orgasm dribbles out pink with his blood over the Prince’s mouth, and Noctis gags, hard, Ardyn’s mostly-severed erection sliding out of his mouth. Ardyn’s knees shake.

“Finish what you started,” Ardyn whispers, hotly, as Noctis dry heaves, blood and pre dripping out of his mouth with spittle as he cries. His penis is hanging on by a thread. He’s _gushing_ blood. “Almost there.”

Noctis sobs as he leans back forward, and tears Ardyn’s dick the rest of the way off like you would tear meat from the bone, spits it onto the ground. It settles with a wet noise, oozing from both ends, and Ardyn, already faint with blood loss, leans forward to undo the handcuffs around Noct’s wrists, tosses his own personal key card to Noctis, who catches it with stiff hands.

“Very nicely done, Your Highness,” Ardyn laughs, salutes, and leaves at a lazy stride.

He collapses from blood loss halfway through the door, and the last thing he can clearly remember before dying is Noctis stepping hard enough on the back of his face to snap his nose.


	14. cor/ardyn; barbed dick abo prolapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cor has learned two things about Ardyn in the time they’ve been fucking: first, he doesn’t seem to have a limit of weird shit he’s into and/or willing to try and second, he’s a whore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>    
>    
>    
>    
>    
> 

Cor has learned two things about Ardyn in the time they’ve been fucking: first, he doesn’t seem to have a limit of weird shit he’s into and/or willing to try and second, he’s a whore.

Which is how he finds the other man looking well-fucked and dumped in a literal pile of garbage at a gas station. “You’re the Chancellor,” Cor says, as Ardyn stretches his legs like a pleased cat, knees spread to reveal his fucking _ruined_ asshole, slick soaking his thighs, what looks like about ten loads of alpha-come streaking the garbage below him, his coat, his legs, the better part of his abdomen. “Don’t you have better things to do than lay around in heat and pick up strange alphas behind gas stations?”

“No,” Ardyn replies, and spreads his thighs further, hiking up his right leg as far as it can stretch to bare his hole properly to Cor. It's red and bloody, his rim puffy and torn in several places, slick and shiny and pearly with come. His knot throbs. “I’m afraid in the absence of me having anybody’s scent all over me, a few enterprising lovely men decided to deal with the problem themselves.” Ardyn flutters his eyelashes, smiles all-teeth. “I’m sure you’d not like to see me bred by any other alpha’s seed. You going to get down here and clean me back out?” His ass is bleeding; no surprise. Given the number of times he’s likely been mounted, he’s probably been scraped to absolute tatters. And he still wants  _more_.

“You’re fucking disgusting,” Cor tells him, and then unbuckles his belt anyway and gets down on his knees, shoves Ardyn’s thigh up to press against his chest, and kisses him. He tastes like cock—someone must have knotted his throat, left his jaw aching. Ardyn’s fingers are in his hair, halfway down his collar and shirt, scraping nails over the skin of his collarbones and shoulders as Cor wipes the semen off his thighs, off his balls. His cock is hard already— _whore_ , but a beloved one—and wiping off his absolutely battered cunt as best Cor can.

“One of these days you’re going to get stuck like this,” he says it without any heat as he lines up and fucks up into the other man, and the little high noise Ardyn makes in the back of his throat goes right to his hardening knot. It’s sloppy seconds (thirds, fourths—) and Ardyn takes his cock to the base like breathing, so wide open he can’t close properly, moaning immediately as Cor finds the right angle and starts fucking his rim with his knot before giving up (too lose) and just slamming right home, his knees digging into the tarmac, and he rams his cockhead up into Ardyn’s loose use-worn cervix, the lips of it grabbing at Cor's dick like it wants too, just to hear him yelp.

“I relish the thought,” Ardyn whispers back, hot and needy. “In fact, that’s my ideal goal. Get stuck like this. Oh, Astrals, I don’t know why I bothered wasting my time with strangers when I could have had _you_.” He says the last part as Cor nudges his chin up and without preamble bites, hard, over the top of the tendons on his neck, draws blood. “ _Cor_ ,” Ardyn purrs, “That’s rude!”

“Fuck off,” he replies into Ardyn’s skin. It’s not gentle at all, even with how wide-open and dripping Ardyn is, and Cor can feel his knot throb as he falls too-quickly into rut, glutted on Ardyn’s pheromones. “Did you let any of the others bite you?”

“No,” Ardyn says, like it’s not a question at all, moaning again as he clenches down as hard as his heat-ruined hole can around Cor’s knot (not hard, not hard at all, but Cor loves it) and starts rocking his hips, somehow getting off on this despite the fact that every time Cor pulls out he's scraping tissue and mucous and semen out with him. “Absolutely not.”

Cor thought as much.

In the state Ardyn’s in, swung too-far into heat with Cor’s own baser brain screaming at him to breed the other man's hungry, yawning womb before someone else gets to him first, it takes an embarrassingly short time despite the absolute filth of the situation for Cor to come, knotting them up, growling into the bite as he buries himself to the hilt and rocks deep, deeper, deepest, to just dump straight into Ardyn. He's yelping as Cor's cockhead pushes, hard, against the tight ring of his cervix, nudging at an angle high up into him, pouring a huge load right into his womb, Ardyn rolling his hips like it's the best thing he's ever had.

“You can do better than than,” Ardyn murmurs, egging him on, and Cor responds by pinning him down with a hand over the base of his stomach, come shooting back out around the base of Cor's dick from the pressure on his semen-full womb, not touching his drippy little cock, and roughly pulling out of him as hard as he can even though they’re still knotted together. Ardyn’s wailing by the time he’s halfway out, tears in his eyes, his bloody purple rim turned halfway out, red raw flesh following the barbs of Cor's knot. Cor just keeps going, teeth grit, as Ardyn’s hole tries to cling to his knot, coming out with him in a red, raw rose, veins throbbing with arousal and ruinous heat, until he’s finally free, the barbs on his knot absolutely fucking _destroying_ the other man’s cunt, until he’s dripping blood in the white of Cor’s spunk, half his hole come out with Cor’s cock, ugly and slick and sticky. His loose cervix, so wide open Cor could probably get a fucking finger in there if he wanted to, is sticking just out of the tip of his hole, and so Cor reaches down and pinches it between two fingers, watches Ardyn's eyes roll back in his skull, his nails dig into Cor's back, and _twists_ as hard as he can, pulling it the rest of the way free of Ardyn's too-hot body.

He barely even has to exert at all, it just slides right out, and in the chill air Cor tugs hard on his womb, hanging pendulous and hot between his thighs, and then—he comes like that, on the feel of Cor turning him inside out, nails scrabbling at the tops of his shoulders and his cock jerking but dry as he looks completely blasted and blissed-out, shrieking at the top of his lungs, and when Cor’s free Ardyn looks surprised at the chill of the mess he’s left of himself as Cor pulls away, wipes Ardyn’s blood off of his lips, shoves his fingers into Ardyn's slack mouth to get them to clean him off.

Cor watches as Ardyn tries to daintily put himself back together, tears in his amber eyes as he grabs the distended end of his cervix and pushes that, his womb, and his wrinkly ass-flesh right back up inside himself, groaning at the feeling of it. Like Cor didn’t just break his ass, and he didn’t just come on it, his cock softening. “My goodness,” Ardyn murmurs, a little hoarse from shrieking, as he reaches between his cheeks, gently corrects the mess. “Someone really doesn’t want me sleeping around.”

“Gross,” Cor says. Because he is.


	15. ardyn/ifrit; cockvore but there's lava for some reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well,” Ardyn snapped back, as Ifrit’s cock squeezed down around him, pushing the breath out of his lungs with the force of the constriction around his legs, “This was your idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is for [zan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BARALAIKA/pseuds/BARALAIKA) who requested i do cockvore my experience with vore is like nonexistent but here i am. I Tried And Therefore No-One Can Criticise Me.
> 
> if you like my porn go check out his porn bc zan is an a+ dude and also is basically my porn twin.

Ardyn was smart enough to barely struggle as Ifrit’s cock swallowed him whole, feet-first. He’d tried to point out the perhaps more logical method of one arm at a time, but the Astral had wanted none of it. _What is the point_ , he had whispered, _When I wish to hear your screams?_

Touching.

Ifrit’s cockslit was as wide unstretched as Ardyn’s bicep, and could get wider, dripping already little hot lumps of coal. Touching his skin was like touching the underside of a hot iron, and it blistered the palms of Ardyn’s hands where he pressed them to the Astral’s spongy cockhead, to balance as his first leg sank into the creature’s cock, a pained, whining moan building in the back of his throat as his leg was encased in the heat. It was like stepping into a boiling-hot bath, that he could not escape. His second foot took a little more wiggling to get in, but Ifrit’s long, clawed fingers tangled in his thick red hair and burning through the strands kept him balanced. When he got stuck, hissing between his teeth, up to both his thighs, too fat to fit, Ifrit laughed and squeezed his cock.

 _Perhaps you are not slippery enough_ , the Astral whispered to him, as he shoved Ardyn further in with the hand on top of his head, forcing him another handful of inches further. Urethras could only stretch so far, though, and Ardyn was not _small_ anywhere, tall and well-built even despite his emaciation. _Or, perhaps, there is simply too much of you_.

“Well,” Ardyn snapped back, as Ifrit’s cock squeezed down around him, pushing the breath out of his lungs with the force of the constriction around his legs, “This _was_ your idea.”

Instead of responding, Ifrit tightened his fingers in Ardyn’s hair, the smell of it singeing in the air, leaving him gagging as the Astral shoved him further in as his cock clenched, hard, around Ardyn’s thighs and hips, his hard cock squeezed painfully tight between his thighs, his own cockhead wiggling just out of the very tip of Ifrit’s, and it was almost humiliating how tiny he was in comparison, his own cock unimaginably small. If Ifrit had tried to do it in return, he would barely have fit his fingertip in.

 _We shall just have to do something about it, then_.

Ardyn didn’t like the sound of that. At all.

He could feel his skin and fat bubbling off of his thighs from the heat in Ifrit’s cock and his skin, and the Astral laughed, and he felt something hot against the soles of his feet, against the flayed muscles. And there was more, seeping up around his ankles, until Ardyn was howling, twisting, trying to push himself up out of the Astral’s cock because it _hurt_ , the pain as it burned straight through his skin and muscle until he could feel what felt like blades knifing through his bones. The lava kept coming up toward him, as inexorable as gravity, and Ifrit pushed Ardyn further in as the hot pre inch by inch burned his feet, his ankles, his shins to ash.

He could only yell in pain, yell as his legs were dissolved and Ifrit pulled his cock upright so nothing would ooze back out he didn’t want to, and Ardyn had the horrible, sickening pleasure o watching as the Astral’s magma semen dripped in hot little dollops out his urethra on either side of his waist, licking over his cock to leave him shrieking in pain and arousal and _want_ even as shock set in, as ifrit, without his hips in the way any more, pressed him _deeper_.

 _Much better_ , said the Astral in his mind, as Ardyn clawed at his cockhead with blunt nails, trying to resist the inexorable suction that pulled him inside Ifrit’s cock, to be swallowed whole, to be sucked in and recycled into semen. Oh, he’d be back before long, no matter how destroyed his body was, but there was something almost intolerably humiliating about being melted into slag by the very source of all his trauma and fury, his cock dissolved into nothing, and it was a pleasurable burst and burn as he struggled, pressed deeper, deeper.

From Ifrit’s sweat like cinders his skin was burning away, his eyes evaporating in their sockets, and the last thing he was able to see was Ifrit smiling down at him with teeth like embers as the hand on his head flattened, and in one, last slow push—

Pressed him inside, and into the furnace of heat and friction and death that burned him instantly into cinders and ash and molten flesh and bone, once again consumed whole in body and soul to sate the Astrals’ hunger.


	16. dinnertime with ardyn izunia; cannibalism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Whatcha gonna make, Specs?” Gladiolus asks, as he strips Ardyn from the waist down. “Like, sure, tongue I get, we’ve had that before.”
> 
> “Gladio, were I to answer your question, our guest of honour would have far more information about his coming few hours than I would like him to have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im like 95% sure this is kristina's fault
> 
> hire me, hannibal writers

“Well,” Ardyn says, as Gladiolus finishes trussing him up with zip-ties and chucks him in the middle of the sleeper car on the train, struggling vainly against where his ankles have been knotted to his wrists, “I never took you three for being great supporters of cruel and unusual punishment. I suppose war has finally taught you all that torture can sometimes get answers, even if they be unsatisfactory ones? For I can assure you, this is _not_ the way to get your precious Prompto back.”

“You misunderstand,” Ignis replies, not unkindly, as he kneels down in front of Ardyn and hooks fingers between his teeth, prying his jaw open despite Ardyn trying to bite down, and then pulls his tongue as far out as it can go before sliding the narrow blade of a carving knife in past his lips and slices it off at the base.

Ardyn starts to choke on his blood.

“We aren’t looking for answers,” the man continues, as he shifts Ardyn back upright, so that he can’t choke on his blood, and sets the tongue aside on a plate. “Think about this as well-deserved revenge. You’re familiar enough with poetic justice.” Ignis takes the spoon that Noctis hands him, and feels over Ardyn’s face for his eyelids, pins them both back with a thumb and forefinger, and cleanly pops both his eyeballs out individually, cutting the optical nerve with the side of the spoon.

It is all very dark suddenly, and his eyesockets burn.

Ardyn gets poetic justice, and he does deserve this. Still, he laughs, which just comes out as an ugly wheezing hoot without his tongue, as Ignis stands up and moves away, his bloody tears dripping down his cheeks.

“Whatcha gonna make, Specs?” Gladiolus asks, as he strips Ardyn from the waist down. “Like, sure, tongue I get, we’ve had that before.”

“Gladio, were I to answer your question, our guest of honour would have far more information about his coming few hours than I would like him to have.” There is the sound of a stove starting. “Rest assured, I shall tell you the whole menu soon enough.” There is banging, and what sounds like Noctis helping his friend to cook despite his blindness. “Are his trousers off?”

“Yeah,” Gladio finishes tearing Ardyn’s boxers off, and he wishes he could do anything more than shift uncomfortably. “What now?”

“Get him hard, please.”

The splutter Gladio gives in return is enough to make Ardyn laugh again, choking on his own blood. “What?”

“Get his cock hard. I don’t care what you do, Gladio, I know you now how to.”

The following ten minutes are some of the most humiliating of Ardyn’s entire life. Gladio is perhaps even more uncomfortable than he is, at first terrified to touch his dick and then when he can’t get the results that Ignis wants, Noctis shoves him aside. “I’ll do it properly,” the Prince says, and the metal of the traincar floor under his feet rattles as he kneels down in front of Ardyn, splays one hand over his hip, grasps the base of his cock with the other, and goes down on him.

Noctis’ mouth is hot and wet, and he’s quite talented at what he’s doing, sucking the head of Ardyn’s dick between strokes of his hand, tongue lapping at his slit, and before long he gets his other hand around Ardyn’s balls, squeezes hard, and he’s embarrassingly hard embarrassingly quickly after that. It’s not even that Noct is particularly talented; it’s more that here he is, the Accursed, bound and unable to speak, at his absolute mercy, and rather than running him through again Noctis is sucking him off. This is some sick poetic irony.

He keeps laughing, even as Noct carefully wraps his fingers painfully tight around his balls and the base of his dick and keeps sucking him, getting Ardyn so near to orgasm it’s absolutely painful. His laughter is half-moans now, and he can’t do more but vainly wiggle. He can’t even beg, even if he wanted to.

“He’s like,” Noctis says when he pulls back, his voice hoarse from Ardyn’s cockhead smashing the back of his throat, “The same colour as his hair. That good enough?”

“Oh, certainly.” Ignis’ footsteps come over and he joins Noct knelt between Ardyn’s legs, pushing him sideways so that he falls onto his bound shoulders with a _thud_ and a pained grunt. “Let me feel.” His fingers are far more scientific in their exploration than either Noctis or Gladiolus were, and he pulls away as soon as he’s certain of what he’s getting. “Yes, that’s good. Six know I don’t want to taste his semen in this, I’m certain it’s foul.”

Ardyn’s hooting, but none of the boys care. Ignis’ hand takes the place of Noct’s on the base of his cock, pulling it as far away from the base of his stomach as he can get it, and un-gagged Ardyn’s grunt of pain is ugly when the cleaver sweeps down and cuts it off at the base, his balls a moment later, blood spurting all over the floor between his thighs.

There’s the sound of his cock and balls dropping into a metal bowl, and then the bowl is shoved between his legs to catch his gushing blood. “What’s all the blood for?” Gladio says, from wherever he’s standing.

“Lovely Accordan desert called [s](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sanguinaccio_dolce)[anguinaccio dolce](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sanguinaccio_dolce). Sort of a sweet blood pudding, I figured we would need something to finish out the meal. It’s normally made with garula blood, but I feel like the human variation might be quite good, all things considered.”

He’s made a _menu_. Ardyn wishes he could ask what his genitalia were for, but he somehow doesn’t want to know.

“We’d best hurry up now,” Ignis says, fingers pressed clinically to the inside of Ardyn’s thigh, feeling his pulse. “He won’t have long before he bleeds out, and we don’t really need two sets of all this. Roll him over on his stomach for me, will you, Noct?”

As Ignis slides a thin blade into the skin of his ass, and then in a single long cut flays him open to get to the meat below, Ardyn wishes he could speak. He’s pretty sure those paper-thin slices of his ass aren’t how you’re supposed to make rump roast. He’s almost certain it’s not supposed to be that literal, but what does he know? He hasn’t eaten in hundreds of years, he’s had no reason to.

When they’re done with that, Noct throws him onto his back, and Ardyn howls at the metal of the floor digging into his hipbones with the protective cushion of fat and muscle taken away from his ass, writhing. When he won’t stop wiggling, Noctis thrusts a sword from the Armiger through his chest, pinning him by his left lung to the floor, and he’s glad he’s going to bleed out before too much longer. This is just messy.

It’s not even all that imaginative, in truth. Making a menu for it is, but it’s by a long shot not Ardyn’s first time being eaten alive. Or, hell, even being cannibalised.

The last thing he’s fully conscious of is Ignis slicing his abdomen open from just below his ribs to his hipbones, and peeling him open like a skinned orange, the air freezing against the steaming pulse of his guts. Noct does the further work, and together the two young men take what they want. Kidneys, liver, and last, slicing through his intestines and unspooling metres from inside his guts.

If Ardyn still had his cock, he’d be hard, but as it is, he’s writhing as Ignis takes him apart piece by piece, like a prize hog ready to roast. He can guess his guts are for sausage, but he’s apprehensive about the rest of it.

The last thing he clearly remembers before he dies is the smell of meat, sizzling in a pan.

 

 

When Arden wakes up some time later, it is to what appears to be a three course meal laid out on the diner car counter. He’s been tied and gagged to a stool. “Hey,” Gladio says, when he notices Ardyn’s eyes open, “Prettyboy is up.”

“Oh, is he?” Ignis turns around, wiping off his hands with a dish towel, and gestures to the feast spread out before him. “We’ve made an absolutely delicious meal. I hope you’ll at least try the [mountain oysters](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rocky_Mountain_oysters), they came out quite crispy, light and soft on the palate.”

Ardyn laughs. Oh, what a lovely group of kids!


	17. ardyn/a mindflayer; every single bad tentacle hentai trope you can possibly think of (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ardyn izunia, newly minted immortal, has an unfortunate run in with a mindflayer (and its many, many writhing tentacles)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you know that we have a rank in our fc called "hentacle tentai" because "tentacle hentai" is banned by the ffxiv servers? this is true. thats also why i wrote this fic.
> 
> its also pud, roger, and jiis fault. i think them.

“Oops” is not normally what one should say when confronted with a gigantic slavering Mindflayer with dripping, slimy tentacles each well over twenty feet long that wanted to, you know, eat you. “Oops” definitely does not describe the kind of situation that stumbling into this mess was. But “Oops,” was what Ardyn said when he looked up at the creature in front of him, dripping ichor that sizzled as it struck the ground.

“Oops,” he said, one hand balanced back against the slope. He glanced up—he’d have to Warp to get back out of here—and then back forward towards the Mindflayer. “Whose little sweetheart are you, getting loose like this?” _Loose_ being stuck down a pit in a cave. Still out here, waiting to ambush someone.

In times past, he would have been able to lay the thing to rest. But healing or murder; both seemed tasteless.

Ardyn pushed himself to his feet and held up his hand, fire conjuring over his fingers and licking bright tongues into the air. He held out his other hand, his crossbow landing in it, and he eyed the Mindflayer, which eyed him back. It hissed, screamed, and he rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. Very unfortunate. Trust me, I’ve no greater interest in being stuck in this hole than you do.” He could have Warped out, but...Mindflayer.

Who would deal with the thing, if not him? He couldn’t trust whichever random Kinslayer was King now; no doubt they’d just seal the tomb off. The Mindflayer hissed again, and Ardyn...paused. Dropped his hand. Let the crossbow vanish. Stared at it.

What could it do to him?

Hesitantly, he approached, letting the fire lick out into nothing. The closer he got the more the Mindflayer hissed, until he stepped within its reach and its tentacles, long, slimy things, shot out and grabbed his arm. He tugged back, trying to dig his feet into the stone, but they tightened inexorably around his wrist and forearm, the burning taint of the Scourge blackening his skin that he had so painstakingly learned to make appear normal. He tugged, as hard as he could, to see what would happen.

The Mindflayer tugged back, _harder_ , and he toppled facedown to the ground, spitting dirt. Ardyn tried to roll over, found his other hand caught too, and was lifted up off the ground. He prepared to wiggle away, trying to twist, when he froze in terror. Tentacles. Around his leg.

“No,” he tried to say, but the moment he opened his mouth a tentacle pressed itself in behind his teeth, overcoming his gag reflex and shoving down his throat. It was slimy and cold and vaguely sticky, and he gagged helplessly as he tried to wiggle away from it. It kept sliding until it was down the entirety of his throat, the weight of it tangling in his esophagus and into his stomach. He tried to breathe, desperately, but then ooze shot up his nostrils, flushing his sinuses and filling his nose.

He could survive without breathing, he’d found. But it wasn’t fun.

Screaming silently in vain, Ardyn tried to kick away the tentacle that had curled around his leg, locking his knees together as another took his other leg by the ankle. They were cold when they slid up to the soft skin of his thighs, tangling at his hips. The ooze ate through the cotton of his loincloth, and the tentacles surged upward.

Ardyn looked up at the Mindflayer, terrified, as more tentacles pressed into his ears, boring into his brain. The tentacles that had taken him below the waist were nosing against him now, his flaccid cock, his tight ass. The first press against his ass was tentative, testing, and then the tentacle stiffened, hardened, and shoved inside. It took enough pressure to break through his tight ass that he yelled, eyes watering, as it filled wider, pressed deeper, like it was inflating. It twisted inside him, churning up his intestines, until it came to the second stopper of his rectum.

It punched through that too, and Ardyn screamed in agony, the sound caught by the thing in his mouth and nose, thrashing as the slime in his ears pressed further and the pain began to change—shifting from agony as his body was forcibly raped to something. Lighter. Like he was floating.

It kept pressing deeper, surging cold through his gut, enough to give him chills and cramps. The Mindflayer didn’t care, its tentacle getting as wide as it could inside his intestines as it crawled through the shapes of them. It was strange, that being violated felt so...nice. It was nice. It was nice how the tentacle was making its home inside of him, melting through his intestinal walls, carving out a nice little borehole. It needed lots of space in there, yes, and he didn’t need those organs any more. Not when the daemon had him.

The tentacle began to widen, inflating inside him as it moved, getting deeper and further with each of his fluttering heartbeats, until it was knotted inside him enough that Ardyn could glance down and see his stomach distending with the shape of it, and still it pressed further. It was strange, an experience unlike anything he’d ever known, but he _liked_ having the tentacle in there. Making him full and heavy, making his belly get wide and soft and straining. It pressed upward until it popped into his stomach, and he could feel the two tentacle there meeting, touching, sharing experiences.

The acid of his stomach was nothing to those tentacles.

Sinking deeper as the pleasure grew, Ardyn moaned when the remaining tentacle wrapped tight around his balls and began to squeeze, twining around his shaft. He’d gotten hard, at some point, and he got the rest of the way hard when the tentacle thinned down to be as narrow as the ones that had gone in his ears and met in the middle and torn apart his brain. It pressed in, in—

 _In_.

Ardyn moaned, shuddering as the tentacle inside his cock grew, pushing deeper, until it slid all the way inside him and began to inflate there as well, shouting in pleasure as it slid into his bladder, filling that up too. He could feel all the tentacles pulsing inside him—cool, before, but growing warm, writhing.

His eyes fell shut as he felt only the sensations. The feeling of being expanded, stretched, twisted and torn apart however the tentacles needed. The inside of his head felt so—light. Everything was so nice, each stroke of the tentacle inside his throat making him shudder, each press of the one that had taken him all the way from his ass almost out his mouth sending shocks that filled his body down to his toes. Oh, yes, it was so good, he loved them. He loved the tentacles. He loved how they wanted to take care of him, make them his.

Even when he orgasmed, that too was sucked up by the tentacle inside his cock, drinking him dry before it began to milk another, gulping greedily at his cum, growing in size until his bladder felt like it was going to pop, combust, pain and agony and _pleasure_ ricocheting inside of him, tearing his body apart. He was going to die like this, a hundred, a thousand times over. He was going to end his existence in delightful pleasurable agony as this Mindflayer made him its slave, its plaything, in this deep dark, pumping him full of his tentacles until they curled up and began to gush black, vile cum deep inside him, inflating his bladder until he came from the pressure alone, filling his stomach and his throat to shoot back out the sides of his mouth, inflating his stomach even further until it was distended like he was years pregnant with horrific, monstrous children, ready to kick their way out of him, wiggling with every breath, dripping back out his wide, wide ass.

 _Oops_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: im done updating this
> 
> me: checks my watch
> 
> me: time to be horrific

**Author's Note:**

> im on twitter and tumblr @jonphaedrus


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